


Fragments

by ballsdeepinwinchesters



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Fluff, Goodbyes, M/M, Non AU, Sadness, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballsdeepinwinchesters/pseuds/ballsdeepinwinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Driven by the forces of love, the fragments of the world seek each other so that the world may come to being."</i> - Pierre Teilhard de Chardin</p><p>I've decided to dedicate a master post for my little ficlets I write every now and then, so this is where I'll post them. Each chapter is its own ficlet, and the applicable ships/tags/ratings will be noted at the beginning of each one. The ships/tags/ratings will also be changed on the master post as needed. ❤</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jensen's Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ship: J2  
> characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki  
> tags: non AU/canonverse, best friends, fluff, kisses

Jensen had moments like these sometimes, where he would get really intense and just stare at Jared for long periods of time. It wasn't a bad thing, and Jared didn't mind because he's pretty used to it by now, but still... It's pretty intense the way he just _watches_ , studies Jared and his eyes just gloss over him as if trying to memorize every pore on his face. It's a little weird, but still, Jared doesn't mind. 

It usually just means Jensen's thinking about something. Either he's distracted by something at work, or a problem from back home- shit, maybe it's just that the Cowboys lost. It's always something. Sometimes it's a good kind of intensity, like the kind after Jared cooks them steaks and they just hang out and drink scotch, when they don't talk about anything. 

Those are just the times Jared actually sees Jensen looking at him, but more often than not, even when he's not looking, he can sense it. It's like some sort of extension of himself. He just gets that _feeling_. Even though it's mildly creeper status, strangely Jared's still not bothered by it. 

Today, they're sitting side-by-side on a red-eye back home to Austin. Jared had fallen asleep at some point, and his neck's feeling the awkwardness of his angle when he wakes up. As soon as he opens his eyes, he sees Jensen with that intense look in his relaxed eyes, just watching Jared sleep like it's normal or something. Jared rubs his eyes and stretches his back as much as he can in those tightly compacted seats. "Mornin', McCreepy." 

Jensen doesn't respond- he rarely does when he's like this- but the corner of his lip twitches with a faint smile and one of his eyebrows raises a little higher than the other. Jared settles back into his spot, pulls his jacket back over his chest and arms and watches Jensen back to see if he can read his mind. So far, no luck. Jensen is the master of this stupid game; even when Jared makes silly faces that _always_ break him in staring contests, when Jensen's in his little mood, he's the champion. 

Jensen's sitting there, a finger over his lips and his thumb holding up his jaw, watching Jared and looking into his eyes for... _something_. Like maybe his next words are written in there or something, maybe that's where his answers are- who fuckin' knows? 

Jared huffs out his nose and looks away first, defeated. "I wish you'd just tell me what's up instead of looking at me like that." He means it... Kinda. Like he's said, he really doesn't mind all too much, if he's being honest. It's just Jensen, and Jensen never makes him uncomfortable. It's just _him_. And they've been as best as friends can be for what feels like a lifetime, so really... "I'm gonna break you, Ackles," he promises with a determined look in his eyes. 

Jared focuses a little harder, nestles down comfortably in his seat and faces Jensen as much as he can. Again, Jensen's mouth only briefly twitches into something like a smile, but he doesn't move an inch. Seriously, intense. Jared squints his eyes in some attempt to watch Jensen as hard as he's being watched, but he can't really replicate what Jensen's doing. It's like Jensen's not looking _at_ him, but more like he's looking _into_ him, and that's not easily replicated. 

"Okay... You're _thinking_ ," Jared draws out the last word in thought. "- about work?" Jensen doesn't budge, still glossing over Jared's face and coming back to his eyes. "Okay. How _about_... your dad?" Jensen does that weird smile-twitch-thing and knits his eyebrows a little tighter but otherwise doesn't yield. Jared huffs and sets his lips tighter. "Okay, fine. Alright." 

Jared says it like maybe if he pouts or gives up, Jensen will have mercy on him, but it never works. Jensen usually just looks away when the mood passes, however long that takes. Jared puts his head back to the headrest and stares at the seat in front of him. Glancing out of the side of his eye, Jensen's still fucking watching him. 

"Dude..." Jared shakes his head with a smile and looks back to Jensen. He's gotta lighten him up somehow or else the poor guy's never gonna get any sleep and he's gonna have some major jet-lag when they land. "Okay, ten bucks says the next words out of your mouth are super cheesy." Jensen's face relaxes and the faintest of smiles spreads on his cheeks. Jared grins. "Like, spray-can cheese. Nacho cheese. _Super cheesy_." 

The hand that was holding Jensen's jaw up falls down onto the arm rest while Jensen takes another moment to just look at Jared, and then it's like Jared completely blacked out or something because Jensen's... Kissing him? How did he miss that? How did he miss the part between Jensen looking at him and now- where Jensen's hand is holding the side of Jared's neck and he's pressing his lips to his own. 

Honestly, Jared doesn't even know if he's really complaining. Jensen's got soft lips, and it's not like this is the _first_ time. They used to get drunk and handsy on the occasion when they were young and dumb, too buzzed and too comfortable to care. Sometimes it's just nice to kiss someone; it's not a big deal. But this... This doesn't feel young and dumb. This feels... Like, old and educated (that's the opposite of young and dumb, right?) 

Maybe Jensen just needs this right now, so Jared obliges. Jensen parts his lips just a little and Jared tilts his chin to slide their lips more comfortably together. It's nice. A lifetime of familiarity makes this totally not a big deal for them. Plus, did Jared already mention the soft lips thing? Because... _yeah_. That sugar scrub he bought him as a stocking stuffer on Christmas must've been being put to good use because- 

His train of thought is derailed when Jensen doesn't let go, doesn't back away just yet. Jensen parts his lips again and his tongue only slightly touches the tip of his own before his lips close on Jared's upper lip. Both of them let out deep breaths from their noses and lean into it- that, or the hand on Jared's neck pulls him in closer. Who knows? Who cares? Because this seems less and less like a comforting thing, and maybe something else completely. Jared still has no idea, but maybe if he searches hard enough, he'll find the answers written on Jensen's lips. 

The hand Jensen has on the back of Jared's neck tightens just a little, his fingers through the hair at the map of Jared's neck and his thumb on the pad of skin right in front of Jared's ear, as Jensen presses forward again. Jensen's lips open and close again on Jared's, slipping his tongue over Jared's lip as he does so. _God_ , why is Jensen the best kisser in the world? It's so not fair to everyone else. Jensen tilts his chin as he parts his lips again, this time breathing out of his mouth against Jared's lips and making Jared shudder. What the hell is going on? 

Jensen presses his chaste kiss to Jared's lips again, presses their foreheads together and makes Jared's heart beat faster- too fast for four in the morning. Jensen pulls his lips back again just to return them to Jared's like they missed him or something, just as soft and familiar as his favorite pillow. Finally, Jensen slowly leans back and Jared can catch the breath that he didn't know he was holding. Jared can't decide to search Jensen's expression in his eyes for answers or to keep his eyes on Jensen's lips in case he misses part two. 

The hand on his neck still hasn't moved, but Jensen's thumb brushes briefly over his skin and over his ear. Jensen licks his lips and brushes the hair back behind Jared's ear like he does sometimes, and just stares at Jared a little longer. Still intense, but... "I love you," are the words that knock Jared out of his trance. 

Jared must've blacked out again because he _must've_ missed something again. He opens his mouth to say something- maybe ask "What?" ...Something. But he doesn't. Instead he just sits there, probably looking like an idiot just opening and closing his mouth because, seriously, _what?_

This definitely wasn't like the times Jensen's said it in the past, in that friend way or that brother way, for this reason or that. This is... It's different. Jensen looks pretty comfortable with his decision, though, doesn't get upset that Jared's just sitting here like an out of work puppet, all slack jawed and and blank-eyed. 

Then there's a feeling in the palm of Jared's hand that he didn't know he had outreached. It feels like... Paper? And Jensen's fingers pressing it into his palm? The corner of Jensen's lips turn up into something like a smirk, and Jared looks down at his hand to see a ten dollar bill in his hand. When he looks back up at Jensen, Jensen's already turned away with his forehead pressed to the window, smiling like he's satisfied with himself.


	2. Playthings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ship: wincest, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester  
> characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester  
> tags: non AU/canonverse, canon divergence, first kisses, angst, Sam is drunk, everything is the same except it isn't

Dean never intended to kiss Sam. He didn't plan any of this. It's just another disastrous piece of this huge, messy, ten-car-pileup wreck Dean calls his life now. He never intended to kiss Sam... But we should probably back track a second. 

Dean never intended for this- any of this- to get out of hand. He fucked up. How else could he explain their entire fucking lives being turned to shit? Dean fucked up. Plain and simple. 

Dean's left alone to take care of Sam just like he was growing up, but now everything's just so... _fucked up_. Dad's dead, Sam's turning into Jennifer Love Hewitt, and Dean has no fucking clue how he's supposed to save him. The only other option he was given- well, that's completely out of the question. 

They're at some B&B investigating a ghost- probably just a simple salt and burn case. When Dean gets back into their room to tell Sam about the most recent death, he finds what could only be seen as an overgrown 12 year old drunk off his ass, sitting in the corner and moping. 

Obviously, Sam's had a little to drink. Dean flinches inwardly when Sam slams his hand on the table. _Scratch that- Sam's had a lot to drink._ He's talking out his ass about shit he doesn't need to be talking about, and Dean can feel the frustration rising in his gut like a night of drinking before the morning of a bad hangover. 

Dean manages to haul Sam's giant, gangly body up, and he's just trying to deflect the words coming out of Sam's mouth without absorbing them. "I need you to watch out for me." 

“Yeah, I always do.” How was that even a question at this point? 

Somehow it wasn't the right answer because Sam's upset again. "You have to _watch out_ for me, alright? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not-" Dean wasn't ready for the next words that spilled out of Sam's stupid fucking mouth. "You have to kill me." 

Sam, you stupid fucking kid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Dean wants to knock his lights out just for suggesting it. They'd been over this: it's not happening. Under no circumstance is Dean letting Sam die on his watch, and Dean would rather die than have it be by his own hand. No way. Not gonna happen. 

“Sam,” is what he settles on because words just aren't easy at this point. He's barely keeping it together as it is, and he doesn't need Sam to push him any farther. 

Which, of course, is exactly what he does. Literally. "Dad told you to do it, you have to." Ironic. 

Dean tells him Dad's an ass, and it's like the past 20something years flipped and Dean's the rebel child who stood up to Dad, and Sam's the loyal one instead of the other way around. “He never should've said anything. You don't do that. You don't lay that kinda crap on your kids,” because it's the truth. 

Sam's really about to piss Dean off if he keeps it up; Dean can feel himself unraveling at the seams. "He was right to say it. Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies." 

Dean can't even deflect the words anymore, and he's taking a beating like a bar fight he picked with the wrong guy. “I'm not dying, okay? And neither are you.” No way. 

Dean finally manages to get Sam onto his bed, and it's then that things really take the worst possible turn. Sam's hands are in his jacket, and Dean's heart is definitely gonna beat out of his throat. Sam's looking at him with that baby brother look in his eye, and Dean tries not to think about all of the times he's had to look Sam in the eye and tell him no. He knows it'll just embarrass him because of how few instances he ever managed to not give in. 

Dean's holding onto Sam because he's halfway afraid he's gonna topple over if he doesn't, but he has to be the big brother. He always has to be the big brother. He's got to be Sammy's rock, and what good is a rock if it can't stand on its own under the weight of the person it supports? 

"Please. Dean, you're the only one who can do it. Promise." 

“Don't ask that of me.” 

"Dean, please," and those two words claw at the last of Dean's crumbling resolve. Fuck Sam. Fuck him. He can't ask this; he can't expect Dean to be okay with this. "You have to promise me." 

There's a hanging silence, one of those silences that are actually louder than anything Dean's ever heard. He can hear all of his muscles screaming, the banging drum of his own heartbeat in his ears and in his throat, and he can hear Sam's eyes calling out to him. Sam and his...stupid...stupid, green eyes, and his stupid face, and his stupid, pink lips... Stupid Sam. 

It all shifts in that moment, the moment that Dean's wall came crumbling down under the weight of Sam's palm. He didn't intend to kiss Sam. He planned to keep it all bottled up the way real men do- the fucking buildup of emotions that have been sitting in the pit of Dean's stomach for as long as he can remember. Each word Sam said to him, each look Sam gave him, each fucking breath this kid took, just added on more weight onto Dean until Dean's whole body ached under the constant, relentless weight of his love for his baby brother. He planned to fucking suffocate and die under all this goddamn weight piling on him if he had to. He did not intend to kiss Sam. 

But he does. 

You'd think after all this time, after all of this buildup of emotions, Dean would surge forward and kiss Sam harder than two people have ever kissed. You'd think that Dean would grab Sam's face and kiss him so hard, it makes their heads spin. He would kiss him so fucking hard that Sam wouldn't be able to talk at all, let alone talk about the idea of Dean putting him down ever again. 

But he doesn't. 

His lips are moving before the rest of him has a chance to catch up, and then they're pressing softly against Sam's like they're asking permission. And at first, neither of them move- the whole _world_ stops moving, and everything is just frozen in time. Maybe this isn't even happening, the kiss is light enough it could just be a figment of Dean's imagination. But his lips press to Sam's just a little bit firmer- like they have the fucking right to be there. 

And then Sam's lips slip the millimeter it takes for them to fit together like the matching puzzle pieces they are, and both sets of lips seal together without urgency, just gentle emotion. They fit together like maybe that's just where they belong, like maybe that's not even a question. And that alone rocks Dean to the core, but he's not thinking right then. How could he possibly think when his lips have found their way home after a lifetime of being lost? 

All it takes is a simple tilt of the chin, and their lips slide together just a little bit more. Dean's bottom lip is between Sam's, and Dean's learning the shape of Sam's upper lip. All it takes is a simple parting of Sam's mouth, and their kiss reconnects just a little bit closer. He can feel Sam's teeth grazing his bottom lip, and he can feel Sam's girlishly long eyelashes flutter right against Dean's. 

He's not sure just how long they're kissing- hell, Dean doesn't even know if Sam is as aware of it happening as Dean is. He just knows this is it, this is happening, and it's changing everything he's ever known, and it's like... It's like the world shifted on its side and everything is different. He doesn't know if it's good or bad; he just knows it's happening. 

Dean's finger that was apparently on Sam's chin tilts Sam's face just enough for their lips to part. Their lips take their sweet time doing so, stuck to each other like magnets. Dean's nose fits into the groove of Sam's eye and he keeps his lips less than an inch from Sam's for some godforsaken reason- as if he really needs the temptation that close. The first thought that comes clearly to Dean's mind is just that he doesn't even have a clear idea of what Sam tastes like, like maybe he didn't kiss him enough. 

Sam, of course, shatters the egg shells they were tiptoeing on. Voice as soft as the tentative press of their kiss, he says "Dean," but it's so much more than that. It's like a thousand different questions: why, why now, how long, what does it mean- Sammy's always been full of questions. The word is like a hundred different things Dean's afraid of: that he scared Sam, or that he's disgusting for kissing his baby brother (which he can't really deny, if he wanted to). Or maybe Sam's just saying his name because it's all he can do, because that's all he can even muster. 

"I... You..." Dean doesn't know what Sam's trying to say, but he does know that if his lips have to feel the warm breath of his brother on his lips again, he's going to break. Dean pulls back a little and watches as Sam swallows, but doesn't break eye contact. Sam's baby brother eyes search his even more than before, swimming around for answers Dean doesn't have. The silence hangs heavier than before, and Dean desperately wishes he could move. Sam swallows again before speaking, and Dean watches his lips form the words he didn't want to hear. "You have to promise me." 

It's worse than a sucker punch to the gut, it's worse than if Sam had reached right through his fucking chest and ripped his heart out like something from one of those cheesy horror movies they used to watch on the dirty floor of nameless motel rooms. It's like... Well, it's like Dean had kissed Sam, and Sam was still asking Dean to kill him. 

“I promise.” Because it's all Dean can do. 

Sam has the audacity to look relieved. He has the audacity to say "Thanks." He has the audacity to touch Dean's face like they hadn't just kissed. And he has the audacity to say "Thank you" again. 

Sam starts to say something else, but the feeling like Sam's fingers are pulling on his skin makes Dean want to cry, and he really doesn't have the energy for that. He bats Sam's hands away and manhandles him until Sam's laying down. Dean watches as Sam curls onto the bed on his stomach, buries his face into the pillow, and goes to sleep like nothing happened. 

Dean feels like maybe he wasn't tough as nails before, maybe he wasn't invincible after all. Maybe his entire body, his skin down to his heart, was made out of porcelain and Sam dropped him onto the ground and shattered him into a million pieces. All Dean can do is rub his face, touch his lips just for a moment to remember what happened in the second before he let his baby brother break him. 

Dean never intended to kiss Sam, and he never should have.


	3. Playthings (pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ship: wincest, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester  
> characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester  
> tags: non AU/canonverse, canon divergence, angst, everything is the same except it isn't
> 
> Follow up to Chapter 2 "Playthings"

Dean's not really sure how or why it ended, just that it's over. The haunting just... stopped. Tyler doesn't see Maggie anymore, and everything just kinda stopped when the old lady croaked. It's pretty weird, but hey- consider it a successful hunt.

Unfortunately for Dean, all that means for him is more time to sit and suffocate in the stale air of the Impala next to his brother. Usually that doesn't bother him- or, well, it _bothers_ him... sometimes... but not in the "I need you as far away from me as possible" kind of way. Usually it's the exact opposite. But now... God, the hunt's been over for two fucking minutes and Dean's already ready to blow his goddamn brains out. 

Dean's letting Sam say his sappy goodbyes like he always does- hell, he earned this one so maybe Dean won't lay into him as much- when Susan just wraps her arms around Sam and hugs him. Dean feels something in his chest, something he should just suck up and get used to, and waits. "Thank you," Susan says to Sam before adding "Both of you." 

_Both of us, my ass._ After Sam shuts the door, they head for the Impala and Dean swallows whatever feeling it was sitting at the bottom of his throat. "Think you could've hooked up some MILF action there, bud," he mentions with the shreds of his dignity he managed to pick up off the floor of their hotel room. Sam gives him a skeptical huff, and Dean smiles a little. "I'm serious, I think she liked you." _Who wouldn't?_

"Yeah, that's all she needs," Sam returns quietly. 

"Well, you saved the mom, you saved the girl. Not a bad day. 'Course you know, I could have saved 'em myself, but I didn't want you to feel useless." 

Which is a lie; Dean hasn't been able to think straight all day, let alone be helpful in saving Tyler in that pool. It's all he can do to not claw his own skin off remembering last night. Dean just desperately hopes Sam will let him get away with not ever talking about it again- not about the promise Sam forced Dean into making, and _definitely_ not about the kiss. Sam hasn't mentioned it this far, maybe he doesn't even remember. Dean inwardly shakes away the sharp pain in his chest at the thought of Sam either not remembering the kiss, or never wanting to talk about it again. 

Sam huffs a laugh. "Alright, I appreciate it." 

"Feels good gettin' back in the saddle, doesn't it?" Maybe that's all Sam needed to remind him he's a hero, and he saves more lives than he thinks. Maybe a win is all he needed to help him out of his... funk. 

Sam sighs and leans on the car. "Yeah. Yeah, it does." _Awesome. Coast clear._ "But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean," Sam adds in a lowered voice. 

Another stabbing feeling right in the chest. Dean hesitates. "We talked about a lot of things last night." _We also_ didn't _talk for a little while there, Sammy. Remember?_

Sam gives him a look, and Dean feels another wave crashing into him, like maybe they _are_ gonna talk about the kiss. "You know what I mean," is all he says. 

"You were wasted," Dean spills out immediately. 

"But you weren't." Dean really wishes he was anywhere but here right now. Anywhere except standing across from his goddamn brother, the stupid fucking love of his goddamn life because he's a fucked up piece of shit like that, listening to Sam remind him of the fact that Dean's supposed to just _let_ him die. Kill him, even. As if that's not the stuff of Dean's nightmares, his honest to God deepest fears and the shit that keeps him up at night. "And you promised." 

_"Yeah, I promised. You were drunk, and you wouldn't shut the hell up. Would you have even let me do anything except promise? What the hell else was I supposed to do, Sam? You put me in a tough spot. I... Sam, I kissed you. I just... I kissed you, and- and- and I meant it. How can you ask me to kill you? After that? After feeling what I... After knowing how I feel- how could you expect me to let you die? What in your entire life has ever-_ ever _given you_ any _indication that I would do anything except keep you safe? Have I really fucked up that badly, Sam? All I've ever done, all I have ever wanted to do, is keep you safe, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you die. I lo- I..."_

The words don't come out. Sam looks like he expects them to, expects some sort of fight from Dean's end, and Dean wishes he could. He wants nothing more than to tell Sam to take his promise and shove it up his ass because there's no goddamn way he's gonna keep it. But he doesn't. 

They both get in the Impala, weighed down by this heavy silence sitting on both of their shoulders. It's a silence that has Dean's heart sitting at the top of his throat, ready to leap right out at a moment's notice. He needs to do something besides look at Sam and wonder how things got this fucked up. Sam's not gonna talk, that much is obvious. Why would he? He's not the one sitting here with shattered glass for bones and a puréed heart. Dean is. He needs to say _something._

The only thing that comes to mind is three words, eight letters long, and a thousand years too late. The words don't come out.


	4. Hey, Jess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ship: Sam/Jess  
> characters: Sam Winchester  
> tags: non AU/canonverse, angst, sadness, saying goodbye, death

"Hey, Jess," Sam says quietly. His voice gets caught in his throat and he coughs twice. "Hey. I, uh... I don't really know what to say. I know I should've probably, uh-" He huffs a laugh and let's his hair fall forward over his eyes. "I probably should've prepared something, huh?" Sam pauses, but knows Jess won't say anything. There's an old tugging feeling on his chest he hasn't felt in a while, and he takes a deep breath. 

"I miss you... Jess, I... I know it's been a while. I'm sorry. Things have been hectic, I guess you could say." Sam rubs a hand over his face before resting his chin in his hands. "It has been nothing but hectic. Life is not like what it was back then- back when you and I... Y'know, back when we had each other." 

Sam takes his time, doesn't rush this. A small smile tugs on his lips at a memory. "Do you... Do you remember our first date?" Sam laughs a little, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "You were so far out of my league, I don't even know why you agreed to go out with me... 'Because I'm cute,' right?" Sam smiles before letting it die on his lips, his eyes falling as well. "Right." 

"I'm not that kid anymore," he almost whispers. "I've, uh... I've grown up a lot. I mean, physically alone. I'm just massive." Sam's chest moves with what's probably a laugh, but he's too tired to bother. "I realize I was- or, _am_ , I guess- kind of selfish. I wanted to keep you, and I wanted to keep you away from myself. If it makes sense. I didn't want you soiled by who _I was-_ who I am. You were too beautiful, Jess- inside and out- just... You were too beautiful, and I didn't want to ruin you." 

A tear he didn't expect to shed slips down onto his cheek and Sam quickly wipes it away. "So much for that, huh?" He sits there quietly for a while, letting the wind blow over his cheeks. Sam reaches forward to touch the grass beneath his fingers and presses his palm flat to the earth, swallowing down a rising wave of old emotions. "I'm so sorry, Jess," he whispers. "I'm so sorry I couldn't... I couldn't protect you. I just..." Sam sniffs back and tucks his hair behind his ear. "I'm sorry." 

"You would... I know right now you'd be touching my cheek and telling me to stop apologizing- that I did the best I could... That there was nothing I could've done. But..." Sam tilts his head towards the sky and takes another deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. A warm tear slides out of the corner of his eye and down into the hair at his temple. He lets out the deep breath as his head falls forward again, and his eyes settle on the headstone. It's only slightly worn by nature since the last time he visited. He shakes his head when he tries to remember when the last time was. "Too long," he whispers quietly. 

Sam lifts his hand to lightly trace over the lettering on the grey marble. _Jessica._ Sam smiles faintly and licks his lips. "I love you so much, baby." _Lee._ "And sometimes, I miss you. I don't let myself very often... Miss you, I mean." _Moore._ Sam swallows again. "It just hurts too much. Kinda pathetic for someone who lost you over ten years ago, right?" Sam sighs and keeps winding his fingertip over the letters. _Beloved._ "Right." _Daughter._ Sam's finger catches on the last part of the final "r" and he lets it hang for a moment. "Right," he says finally. 

"I don't say this- out loud- I don't... I don't say this to Dean, but, uh..." Sam takes a shaky breath and knits his eyebrows together. "I wish I could sit here and tell you that you'd be proud of the man I've become." The words get caught in his throat towards the end, and he swallows around them. A new tear rises up in his eyes and he sets his mouth tight. "Sometimes it feels like... I don't know, like maybe I should've stopped fighting a long time ago." Sam takes a deep breath and finally lets his eyes meet Jessica's old photograph sitting pretty in that circular frame. "Yeah, I know," he answers the wind. "You'd be proud because I didn't stop fighting. I know." Sam chews on his bottom lip for a brief moment before breathing out a humorless laugh. "You always were too good for me." 

Sam looks down at his lap and picks at the skin beside his nails. "I'm not all bad, Jess. I've... _We've-_ Dean and I- we've done a lot of good in the process. Y'know, we uh... We saved the world." He sniffs and raises his eyes back to her photograph. "Crazy, I know. It's been so..." Sam thinks for the right word. "Totally insane," he settles on before a small smile sets on his lips. "I don't even think I could begin to tell you all that's happened since I talked to you last." Sam sighs and shakes his head. 

"I actually..." Sam takes another deep breath, feeling drained. "I actually told myself I let you go a long time ago, but... I don't know, I think a little piece of me still held on." Sam's eyes fall again. "That selfish piece of me that wants to keep you forever," he says in a low voice. "But that's not really fair to either of us. I still don't think that I really... I don't think I completely moved on. I just..." Another tear falls into his cheek and Sam doesn't bother to wipe this one away. "God, I just really love you, Jess. So much." He chews on his lips and let's another tear slip down his cheek and onto his lips. "You were perfect. And you... You deserved better than me. You deserved so much more." 

Sam sniffs and finally wipes his cheeks before putting his hand over his mouth. He sits there in silence, just breathing and letting the wind wrap around him. He closes his eyes and breathes steadily until the tears stop. _Don't rush, Sam. It's okay._ He takes another deep breath before opening his eyes. 

"Jess, I... I came here to say goodbye." Saying the words out loud was a lot harder than Sam anticipated. He could already feel the sickness settling in his gut, the feeling like this is betraying Jess and her memory. Like he had to stay faithful to her forever, even if she's been gone for over a decade. Sam knows she would never want that, though. Jess would've wanted him to be happy. Of course she would. She would want him to move on, and be happy. _"It wouldn't hurt for you to think of me from time to time,"_ he can practically hear her tease him. Sam smiles and closes his eyes. _"But you should be happy, Sam. That's all I ever wanted for you."_

He wishes he could hear her say it, and there's a painful feeling in his heart reminding him he can hardly remember what her voice sounded like. It's been too long, the memory too far gone and too under-appreciated... Like it got pushed aside during the mayhem of their life. Sam wishes he would've taken the time to let himself remember Jess more often over the years, and maybe he would remember exactly how she sounded, how she felt... 

_"It's time, Sam."_

"I'm not ready," he whispers in a voice barely audible. Hot tears pour down his cheeks and he takes a heavy breath. "I'm not ready to let you go." 

_Yes, you are. You're strong enough, baby. You're so strong. I am so proud of you. And I will always be proud of you. Always."_

Sam licks away the salt on his lips and chews on them, unable to shake this feeling washing over him. "But I love you." 

_And I love you. That's why you have to let go. You need to be happy. For me, Sam. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me."_ Sam closes his eyes and sniffs back more tears. _"It's time."_

Sam nods slowly after a while, lets the wind wrap around him a little while longer before it finally flows past him. When the feeling of the wind leaves him, two more tears fall onto Sam's cheeks and he wipes them away. "Goodbye, Jess," he whispers to her picture. He kisses his finger tips and slowly reaches them out to press to her name. He takes a slow, steady breath. "Until we meet again." 

Sam slowly stands up and looks back down at the place where his old love rests. He takes the moment to memorize exactly how it looks- her headstone, her faded photograph, the color of the grass and the assorted colors of the wildflowers he brought to rest with her. 

Sam takes a deep breath, a final breath. One last breath, just for her until he lets go of her forever. It's for the best. He loved her, in the past, and she loved him. It's time for him to move on and be happy. He deserves it. She would make sure he knew that. Sam smiles a little, one just for her and her memory. "Goodbye, Jess."


	5. Let Me Let You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ship: wincest  
> characters: Sam Winchester  
> tags: non AU/canonverse, unrequited feelings, letters, angst, leaving

_Dean,_

_This is probably my 15th attempt on paper, upwards of the one-millionth attempt in my head, and I still don't know how to start it. How do you tell the one person who knows you inside and out, who knows you better than you know yourself- how do you tell them the one thing they don't know? ~~The one thing that could destroy everything~~_

_Do you remember that time when we were kids, and you had to take me to the hospital after I busted my leg open? I don't even remember how I did it, not really. ~~I remember I was just trying to get your attention and~~ Anyways, the wound was horrible, right? It was a lot of blood, just flowing out of my leg and getting everywhere. It was like nothing you did could stop it. It ruined my clothes, it ruined your clothes, and no matter what you tried, it wouldn't stop. It just kept making a mess and ruining everything while the pain was killing me. I was blacking out, and I remember just wishing I could pass out so I wouldn't have to feel it anymore. But I didn't pass out. Instead, I had to watch you practically lose your mind over my mistake. You were worried sick about me, about Dad, about everything. And all I could think about was how I just can't ever seem to stop letting you down. And about how the blood all over you was mine, and I was ruining you._

_That's how I feel right now, writing this. That's how I feel every day._

_Every day, wanting the pain to go away, ~~wanting to disappear~~ but not being able to do anything except watch as I ruined everything I've ever ~~loved~~ cared about, it's something I've lived with for as long as I can remember. That searing, blinding pain I felt in my leg all those years ago- that was nothing in comparison to the pain I feel in every single part of my body now, the pain I live with constantly. ~~That's what it feels like to be your brother.~~ You probably don't know what I'm talking about._

_You probably won't ever read this anyways._

_I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry for all those nights you stayed up late worried about me. I'm sorry for all of those times you got punished for something I did wrong. I'm sorry for Stanford. I'm sorry for the demon blood. I'm sorry for Ruby. I'm sorry for everything that I can't even list because I would never be able to find enough paper to write it on. ~~Even writing this is just more blood on your tee shirt. It really just seems like no matter what I do, it's the wrong thing.~~ I'm sorry._

_~~Above all, I'm sorry that I'm in love with you, but I'm not sorry at all. I'm selfish and irresponsible, that's what you told me. It's true. That's the part of me that's not sorry. You're my big brother, Dean, and I know that means certain things to you and different things to me. You're the only love I've ever known, and you're the only love I need to know. But I need to not need it. I need to not need you. That's why I have to go. I can't keep bleeding all over you. You don't deserve it. And I can't keep living with this pain, this blinding pain that threatens to kill me, threatens to tear me apart from the inside out every single day- the pain of loving you. I don't deserve that either.~~ _

_I'm not a good person. I'm not a good brother. All I do is mess everything up. And here I am, doing what I do best. But I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending like I'm normal, ~~like I'm not some sick freak who's in love with his older brother~~ I'm so sorry for letting you down. I know if I was stronger, things would be different. But I'm not, and here we are._

_~~I'm such an idiot.~~ But you don't have to worry about me fucking up anymore. I'm not your responsibility anymore. ~~I can actually hear your voice right now saying "Of course you're my responsibility, Sam. You're my pain in the ass little brother. It's my job to take care of you. You'll never not be my responsibility."~~ Don't worry about me. ~~I'm oka~~ I'll be okay._

_If you're actually reading this, it means I'm gone. ~~If you're not reading this... I'm not sure how much longer I can live with this feeling eating away at me. How much longer until I suffocate?~~ Please don't look for me because you won't be able to find me. I know what you're thinking, but please just let me go. ~~Let me let you go.~~_

_I'm sorry._

_~~Love~~ _

_-Sam_


End file.
